


What He Does

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sentinel exacts a bit of revenge.<br/>This story is a sequel to What He Knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Does

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I forgot to thank my betas! Thanks to Anne and Diana. 
> 
> Comments welcome at lazuli2@postmark.net

## What He Does

by Cinel Durant

Author's disclaimer: These characters belong to PetFly Productions and UPN. No profit, just a little (more) honest adoration.

* * *

What He Does  
by Cinel Durant 

Oh man! If he smiles at me like that again, I'm going to fly over this desk and have him right here in front of the entire squad. 

The first time I saw that smile, it was the morning after he'd been out all night with Laura McCarthy. God, I got warm all over. Whatever produced that smile hadn't been fun, it hadn't been passion; it had been good. And bad, if you know what I mean, naughty. 

There was warmth and shyness and genuineness in that smile. 

Incredible. 

I wanted one just for me, no lie. I knew it the moment it happened, though I couldn't pursue it then. It was more important to keep my mind on the case. Unfortunately, that included telling Jim that the woman to whom I'd always owe a debt of gratitude for giving him that smile \-- showing _me_ that smile even existed -- was a thief. He didn't want to believe it, and who could blame him. 

It was months after he'd arrested her before I got even a hint of that sexy grin again. I've seen it a lot since then. It's been known to pull me out of a snit or stop an argument cold. It can melt me down to nothing. And he just flashed it at me. Oh, he knows what he's doing all right. He didn't that first time, but then I made the mistake of telling him what it did to me, and now he knows. 

That smile does sweet things to me. It's pure light and honest pleasure \-- his and mine. It's all the things that excite him, and there is a measure of peace as well. When he dazzles me with it, I want to give him everything I have just to see it again. I want to give him me. 

He has me, of course. And he knows it. But I never see that sly flash of white without wanting to remind him in the most tangible way possible. 

Right now, in fact. 

Who knew underneath all that bearing, there was something so soft and open? 

It's been ecstasy making that discovery. And enlightening, earth shattering, and down right scary. He finally let down his guard with me, and I now have a responsibility along with his love. 

We're not far apart: he's on one side of the desk, and I'm standing just beyond the corner of it. Close, but not close enough for casual contact. I want to touch him. Not for the connection, that's already there, but because if I don't, I'm never going to blunt this longing that I don't always want to hide, even when I know I should. 

I'm just standing there, listening as he tells me about the report he's working on. Not for the first time it occurs to me, here of all places, that more and more of the Jim I see at home is making an appearance here at work. This Jim is more relaxed and laughs more. Ironically, that hasn't been good news for the criminal element; he's been even more intense during interrogations, believe it or not. 

He's sitting there pretending that he doesn't know what I'm thinking when he does. I know what he wants. I do. I take a deep breath, and it comes out a little unevenly. I want it just as badly. 

I sway towards him, not thinking, just being, when . . . shit, why did he have to do that? 

"Jim?" 

"I said your name three times, Chief. Wanna come back so we can get some work done now?" 

He's so smooth, I'm sure no one's noticed the thumb he slipped under my hair, the one that's still moving against the nape of my neck. 

I look up at him with a gaze that's so hot it's only because I can't afford to stare that he's not starting to flame around the edges. 

"Stop it," I mutter under my breath so only he can hear. 

I think I might just pass out now, thank you very much. I know I'm starting to shiver. I will get him for this, the asshole. The groan I swallow fades to nothing, and I know he felt it as it slid down my throat. 

"Blair?" He's looking at me, and he knows better than to actually risk a smile, any kind of smile, but his eyes are laughing at me. 

Damn. What he does to me. 

Now I have to find a way to cover for the fact that we've been standing here for too long, touching. 

"It's nothing, just felt a little dizzy." It's not a lie; it's just not the entire truth. 

He picks up the thread and flexes his hand on my shoulder, the hand that was perfectly still while his thumb was driving me crazy, the hand he slid to my shoulder when I said I was dizzy. 

Here," he says, "sit down. I'll get you some water." 

"Thanks." 

When he moves away I'm finally able to get my body under control. 

When we get through with this case, we're asking for some time off. And I'm going to take him somewhere up in the mountains where the nearest person is about 10 miles away and exact many, many hours of long, noisy, sweaty, carnal satisfaction. Make that retribution. 

He slips the water into my hand and then perches on the desk. I can't chance a look at him quite yet. I know better. The hand he lays on my knee is warm, but the contact is brief. I'm almost back in control when Simon walks up. 

"If the kid is sick, Jim, why don't you take him home?" 

Too bad we can't get an award for this little scene. Two grown men caught mid-seduction fool an entire room of detectives into believing it's really illness and concern: best co-leads in a risque interlude. 

His eyebrows rise just a bit in my direction before he turns to our Captain. 

"Sure thing. Probably a good idea, sir. Come on, Blair." 

I nod at Simon, not trusting myself for anything else and get my coat. We're in the truck before I finally find my voice. Right after he looks over at me and smiles. That same damn smile. 

"Pull over." 

I'm across the seat so fast, it's only instinct that saves him from being surprised. It isn't a kiss; it's more like a mugging: a scorching, intimate assault replete with a willing participant. I'm panting into his mouth, flaying him with my tongue, burning brighter than any falling star. He tastes better than I remembered, and then I'm moving fluidly against him, shaking like a leaf caught in a thunderstorm, pressing into him. Dizzy. Really dizzy this time. 

The windows are moist and so am I. 

"I hope you can drive like this, because I'm not moving. You have five minutes to get me home before I perform an indecent act right here on the boulevard." 

He hitches his chin a fraction in challenge, not moving the hands that are clamped down on my thighs. But I know how to stare too, and I don't even blink when I hear the motor turn over. 

Parked in front of the loft, I climb off of him and out my door without looking back. I'm taking the stairs with an ear on the progress his footfalls are making behind me. I count them as I breathe heavily, waiting. 

Inside the door, I intercept his keys, deftly putting them into my pocket. He's not going anywhere until I say he is. 

And then there it is. That smile. There's a sweet satisfaction, too, that I'll never tire of, not as long as I live. It amazes me every time. No matter what happens now, two hours from now, or two decades from now, this smile is how I'm always going to remember his love for me. Sure I wasn't the first to receive it, but I believe him when he tells me that I'll be the last. The look in his eyes right now says it all. 

I'm sure of everything. 

"C'mere," I coax as the rest of my world fades away. 

It's what he does. 

~~End~~ 


End file.
